


To Rest In Your Light

by starespressos



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Best Friends, First Kiss, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Mild Language, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-15
Updated: 2018-04-15
Packaged: 2019-04-23 08:36:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,921
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14328666
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starespressos/pseuds/starespressos
Summary: Cas likes Dean and doesn't think Dean likes him back, another college!AU childhood best friends to lovers edition.





	To Rest In Your Light

**Author's Note:**

> I'm keeping this short and sweet; Thank you mods, thank you paddock, thank you my favorite [Ri](http://www.archiveofourown.org/users/zaphodsgirl) for betaing for me in such a short notice.
> 
> Title from Nate Ruess' song Nothing Without Love.

Whenever Castiel Novak sees Dean Winchester, his heart starts beating a little faster. He feels he could keep on staring at him forever – those poetry-inducing green eyes, that curve of his lips, and the freckles that makes Castiel wish he could kiss each one of them.

But it’s as if Dean is the actual sun, far too bright and far too radiating -- and instead of being the moon, Castiel is an insignificant, dull grain of sand on a beach in Malibu. He can look at him and long for him as much as he wants, but the light of Dean would never fully reach his heart.

With a sigh, Castiel collects his thoughts and digs up some books from his locker. As blessed as he is to have Dean in the same school once more, he should be focusing on graduating college; there’s only half a semester left before they take their final exams and are set free forever. He’s already getting stress migraines, and one particularly nasty case has been making its way to the surface for days now. He needs to set his priorities to studying, and studying alone.

Then footsteps approach him, and when Castiel closes his locker door the most beautiful eyes in the world are staring right at him.

“Hey, Cas,” Dean says, sending shivers on a cruise down Castiel’s spine, “how’s it going?”

Well. Maybe comparing himself to a grain of sand is exaggerating it – after all, not many grains have the sun as their best friend. He should be grateful to have come this far.

“Like you didn’t know,” Castiel hums and turns on his heels. Dean follows suit.

“Look, there’s the obvious gap between when you left your house and now,” Dean mutters, “I last heard you when you closed the door of your house.”

“It’s been fifteen minutes since. I cycled here, I had my helmet on, that’s all.”

Dean laughs and slaps his palm on Castiel’s shoulder. Castiel looks at it, frowning.

“What’s funny, Dean?”

“I don’t know. I’m in a good mood,” he says with a shrug. “It’s Thursday, and that means it’s almost Friday. Is our plan still on?”

“Is that eating a ton of pizza and binge-watching something? If so, I’m in.”

“Me, too,” Charlie says, appearing from seemingly thin air. They make their way to their usual spot on the second floor while waiting for the lecturer to come, greeting Benny and Jo as they arrive. Seems like everyone’s on board with pizza night, which means Castiel and Dean won’t be able to spend time alone.

Maybe it’s for the best, though. Castiel long ago noticed they just don’t work well alone anymore; either they become awkward due to Castiel’s staring, or they become way too cozy and fall asleep leaning against each other. In those moments, Castiel ends up yearning for them to _finally_ cross the bridge between friends and lovers, more so than ever before.

So maybe, in his sun analogy, he’s Icarus and his wings are on fire.

It hasn’t always been this hard. When Castiel and Dean met in grade school, Dean shared his pencil with Castiel and pretended to punch him during recess because Castiel wanted to look cool in front of the tough guys. They built a fort and slept in it all summer. They built a raft and made it to the local news when they had the police escort them back to the shore. They built a friendship and sealed it with a blood oath. They played Cluedo. They played battleships. They played FPS games.

They shared their first loves with each other. Castiel’s was Mulan. Dean’s was a boy named Aaron.

But then Dean had to go and show just how big his heart is.

Dean had always been so carefree on the outside. He’d been chill, and enthusiastic, and a bright person – but coupled with a fierce protectiveness over what’s dear to him had Castiel weak at the knees. He felt it tug his heart towards Dean when Sam came to them crying and Dean immediately left to speak to the authorities of Sam’s school about bullying; he felt it when Dean flipped off a bunch of dudes for catcalling Charlie; he felt it when they found a stray cat and needed to feed her until she found a new home.

Gently and surely, as if in slow motion, Castiel had fallen in love. The more time passes, the more desperate he feels – soon enough they’ll have to move on with their lives, settle down with jobs and start families, if that’s what they want. Castiel decidedly doesn’t think about what kind of a family Dean is willing to start, if any; most likely it’d involve a beautiful spouse and a kid or two. Castiel would be both the best man and the godfather to their firstborn, and he’d forever hold his peace.

Soon enough, the class starts. Before, Dean used to make witty remarks about Castiel’s tendency to write down everything he hears from the lecturers – but even he knows how much the upcoming finals are stressing him out, and keeps that to a minimum. It doesn’t stop Dean from calling out lecturers if they come in with assumptions, though, and this is another thing he’s picked up from Castiel. While he’s happy to know all his rants about inclusivity of minorities have not gone to waste, it doesn’t make him love Dean any less… Au contraire.

 

Before the class ends, Castiel’s migraine is in full swing. He can barely see; the fluorescent lights in the room are melting his retinas and the perfume someone’s wearing a couple of rows back is torching his nostrils. The more he moves the more hammers pound his skull from the inside, and when he feebly realizes he’s not going to be able to see his way out of this class, he breaks into an anxiety sweat as well.

He knows the lecturer is still talking, but it’s coming from underwater somewhere. He should be writing all of this down and he hates himself for it. He knows he has both Advil and Imitrex in the locker that he just was in front of – while fully aware he was about to get a migraine– but there’s no way he can just get up and get those now. He’ll ask Dean to do that after class, if he makes it that far alive.

The next thing he realizes is that there’s a hand on his shoulder, and he tries to latch onto the feeling of warmth. Without turning his head he knows it’s Dean; Dean’s been around enough to know what he’s going through when he completely zones out and his breath starts to stutter.

“Cas,” Dean whispers, “I’m collecting your stuff now, okay?”

He nods, biting his lower lip gently. Dean is too kind. Castiel feels like Dean is unfair, that he’s exploiting a weak moment to prove just how much he cares and how much he deserves the love of someone who’s much less trouble than Castiel is right now.

Dean is too nice and kind and angelic for his own good. Castiel hears him pack up both of their bags, whisper something to the lecturer and then lean back towards Castiel.

“Let’s get out of here,” Dean mutters, and his breath caresses Castiel’s neck, eliciting all-over shivers no matter how much agony he is in right now.

There’s hands on both of Castiel’s shoulders then, and he gets on his shaky legs partly using Dean for support. He keeps his eyes closed, as Dean instructs him to, and lets himself be guided through hallways. They take a couple of turns, just enough to make Castiel feel lost, before ending up in what sounds like a larger room.

“Alright, Cas, you with me?”

“Yes,” he replies. “Always, Dean.”

It’s coming out too heartfelt. It’s like his filter is off in this state. Dean just huffs, though.

“Now, come here,” he continues, stepping in front of Castiel and gently sliding his hands on his forearms before locking fingers around his wrists. Castiel is being pulled forward, and the acoustics change; there’s rustles and shuffles around them, like they’re in a really narrow closet space. Dean lets go to drop their bags on the floor, and more shuffling ensues before he speaks again.

“Take a seat here,” he says and takes Castiel’s arm again to guide him to sit on the floor. There’s something under him – a jacket, most likely – and he instantly places his head on his palms. As soon as he doesn’t have to move anymore, there’s only pain left.

“Look, I am going to run to your locker,” Dean says, rummaging through Castiel’s bag to find his keys it sounds like, “I hate to leave you, believe me, but you’ve got meds there, right?”

Castiel can’t nod, so he just stays still, hoping no protest means yes.

“I’ll be gone for two minutes, tops. Then we’ll take care of you.”

Castiel feels dread rising to his throat – he doesn’t want to be alone, he fears this time it’s too much and his brain will spontaneously combust, or a vein will pop in his head and he’ll be dead before Dean gets back, and he’s throwing up any second now.

But then, there’s footsteps approaching him, and a firm hand is placed on his knee.

“Alright, I have a bottle of this ridiculous water stuff you like, and your meds are here. Give me your hand.”

Castiel obliges, and pills are dropped on his palm. He throws them in his mouth immediately and grabs the bottle when it’s placed in his hand next, flushing everything down with a pleasant combination of strawberry and rhubarb. Dean shuffles his way behind Castiel, and just as he considers whether Dean plans to leave, there’s hands on his shoulders once more. He lets himself be tipped over on Dean’s arms and slotted between his legs and if he was fully aware of his surroundings right now, he’d fucking lose it. Sure, they’ve fallen asleep with a gentle head pressed on each other’s shoulders. But this? Dean’s arms gently wrap around Castiel, and he stays completely still, fully aware that movement or any stimulus could be a breaking point for his migraine.

Castiel loses track of time. He feels Dean’s heartbeat and breathing against his back, and it calms him down. This is the sound of home – he remembers having listened to Dean’s breathing many times during sleepovers just to make sure he’s not alone. It soothes him, and as the hammering pain ebbs into a humming chainsaw, Castiel lets himself turn sideways and tuck his head under Dean’s jaw. He’s cold now, shaking to his core, and as if Dean hadn’t already done enough, he picks up on that as well.

“Do you want something? I’d have to get up from here to get your jacket, but if you want my hoodie, I could just wiggle out of it.”

“You’re too kind,” Castiel mutters, pressing himself tighter against Dean, “I’m fine.”

“You’re talking,” he sighs, and are his lips on Castiel’s hair now?, “I’m relieved.”

They stay like this for a couple of minutes longer, and Castiel opens his eyes. They’re under the coat racks in the main lobby, shielded from the fluorescent lights and people walking around. It’s like a blanket fortress right here in the middle of a huge school building, and the way it perfectly embodies how Castiel feels for Dean – a little piece of sanctuary in a buzzing world – almost makes him tear up.

Charlie finds them, and she places her hands on her mouth to either keep it quiet or to hide her being overwhelmed by – by what?

“Hey,” she says and crouches next to them. Castiel tilts his head slightly to see Charlie, but he won’t leave his spot where he’s snuggled on Dean’s chest. He wants to keep up the illusion for a second longer before losing it forever.

“Cas,” Dean whispers, carding his freaking fingers through Castiel’s freaking hair, “how are you?”

“Mm,” he answers, lazy and still chilly.

“Do you want us to take you home?” Charlie asks, glancing up at Dean and hiding a smirk.

“Yes, please,” Castiel mumbles. “I need to sleep the rest of this off.”

Dean lets Castiel go, but not before he squeezes Castiel tighter against himself.

*

Sleep makes Castiel feel like a completely new person – although it does take him all evening and night. He wakes up just in time to get walking for his Friday classes. His bike is hopefully still parked where he left it yesterday, and he can take it back in the afternoon.

There’s messages from both Dean and Charlie, but nothing out of the ordinary. Dean was reluctant to leave him alone, but after he was convinced that Castiel could make it by himself, he left with promises to check up on him through the phone. He’ll meet them in no time, so he doesn’t bother answering now.

He needs to completely forget what happened yesterday. He can’t reminisce about their increased proximity fondly – he needs to get over it, forget how perfect it was to lie down in Dean’s arms, hearing his heartbeat and feel how much he was cared for. It wouldn’t be fair to Dean to twist his friendly intentions into something Castiel views romantically.

He finds his friends on the second floor, as per usual, and the mood is giddy – Charlie seems to be trying to wrench Dean’s phone from his hands, kicking him gently in the process.

“Cas!” Dean yelps, “help!”

Benny bursts out laughing in his seat and looks up at Castiel.

“If you knew what they were fighting about, you wouldn’t help the bastard.”

“I’m just trying,” Charlie huffs with a surprising amount of anger, “to help!”

“You’re not helping!”

Castiel sits down next to Benny, leaning towards him.

“So, what are we fighting about?”

“He needs to finally grow a pair,” Charlie groans, “and ask out the person he likes.”

“That’s what Charlie’s doing now. She’s trying to get the phone so she can send the text instead.”

“I, for one, think you shouldn’t ask your crush out in a text,” Jo says with a shrug, not raising her gaze from the history book she’s reading. “Just say the words.”

Castiel tries to swallow all the bitterness that’s trying to make its way up his throat. Like he’s known for ages, everything is going to end soon enough. He’s already wasted whatever opportunity he had with Dean by never speaking his mind. It’s been too late for a long time, and he shouldn’t feel bitter and angry at himself when he hears Dean’s interested in someone else. But just –

_Who are they?_

He bites the inside of his lip, spacing out in thought. Dean has been talking to a lot of people, and there’s no way he wouldn’t charm the socks off whoever he chose. Is it Lisa? Lisa’s been around for a while, talking to Dean whenever she gets the chance – but Castiel has always labeled that as a casual acquaintance. Had he been wrong?

He doesn’t even want to know. He shouldn’t know, whoever it is; it’s just a way for him to feel inferior and get all grudge-y towards whoever Dean likes. If Dean likes someone, they have to be a good person, and Castiel hating his best friend’s possible future spouse isn’t exactly ideal.

While he’s been lost in thought, Charlie has gained access to Dean’s phone. She fiddles with it playfully before frowning.

“We didn’t actually discuss who you have a crush on. I can,” she sighs, “do nothing with this.”

Dean yanks his phone back with a scoff. “Thank you, detective Bradbury.”

“Although, I do have a clue,” she continues, looking at her fingernails as a gesture of having leverage with Dean, “and boy, are you in for a treat.”

“What?” he asks, confused. “You have experience with them?”

Charlie smiles. “Nope. You’ll see. Anyway, if you were to just tell them how you feel, what would you say?”

“Man! That’s private!” Dean says, slapping Charlie on the knee. After a beat, he continues with much less determination. “Besides, I couldn’t talk. I’m shitty at words. I’d make it a joke before I can even get close to what I feel.”

Alright. Castiel can do this. Dean’s his friend. Dean needs help. He’d do anything for Dean.

“You should practice, then. Wording out what you want to say for the first time is the hardest. If you practice enough, you build support under those words.”

Dean looks at him for a moment, a fond smile appearing on his face. “You alright this morning?”

Castiel is determined not to blush at the sudden change in direction. “Yes. Thank you for taking care of me.”

“He’s right, you know,” Benny admits. “Even if you just flat-out ask ‘em out, you should practice.”

“Practice on me,” Charlie says enthusiastically, turning towards Dean once more. “Ask me out.”

Dean sighs, letting his gaze wander over all of his friends, probably seeing he doesn’t have a way out of this. He frowns, fixes his eyes on the floor and breathes in and out a couple of times.

“Do you want to…?” he starts, the rest of the sentence dying on his lips.

“Do I want to what, Dean? Loan me your notes? No, I don’t,” Charlie deadpans. “Come on, let’s try this.”

“I believe in you,” Castiel hears himself saying, and when Dean looks up at him, an unfamiliar electricity runs between them. Castiel shivers and looks away.

So maybe the mood from their not-really-snuggling under the coat racks hasn’t completely evaporated.

At least, not for Castiel. No amount of self-reprimanding is going to help with that.

“Yeah. You’re a charmer, hon,” Jo says encouragingly. “If they don’t want to go out with you, it’s their loss.”

“It just means a little more than I thought it would,” Dean says with a shrug. “Charlie, do you want to go out with me?”

Charlie smiles. “As in out or _out_ -out? On a date?”

“Yeah, on a date.”

“That’s the spirit. Now, ask me a hundred times more, hell, ask all of us, and eventually you’re good to go.”

*

The more classes Castiel takes, the more annoyed he gets over Dean’s plans. He’s pissed that Dean hasn’t told him he’s harboring a crush, and he’s pissed that it isn’t him. He’s pissed this has to happen the day after he felt closer to Dean than ever before, and he’s pissed that he can hear Dean practicing his lame pickup lines on Benny and Jo somewhere behind him.

After lunch, they wait for their final classes outside. It’s one of the first beautiful days this spring, and the sun is shining through the branches of tall oak trees in front of the school building. Castiel leans against the fence circling the yard and tilts his head back. Dean stands next to him and does the same.

“Are you sure you’re fine?” Dean asks, his voice low and private. “You seem… off.”

For a second, Castiel plays with the idea of just telling him. Instead, he shrugs.

“I’m fine. I slept all evening and night. Still recovering from that, I guess.”

Dean sighs and stretches his head further back. Castiel hates himself, but takes a look anyway – lets his eyes caress his beautiful jawline, the delicate skin under his ears and how his Adam’s apple bobs when he swallows. Castiel could just reach out and touch him.

He doesn’t.

“Cas,” Dean asks, eyes closed and voice still low, “would you like to go on a date with me?”

For a split second, all air is punched out of Castiel and he doesn’t know how to express just how much he wants to say yes – but he’s quickly slapped in the face by the memory of Dean asking everyone out for _practice_.

“Fuck off, Dean,” Castiel says, and at those words, the floodgate he’s carefully constructed over the years opens. “You don’t get to do that.”

Dean looks at him, opens his mouth to protest, but snaps it shut again. The atmosphere has gone from mellow to deadly in the blink of an eye.

“You don’t get to care for me, and hold me, and bring me my meds, and laugh with me, and make me feel like you’re my home, because the more you do those things, the more desperately I fall for you -- and not as a fucking bro, or a pal, or a member of whatever ‘family’,” Castiel says, fully aware that his voice is too loud and everyone within a mile radius could hear his pathetic outburst. “You don’t do all that and then use me as a test run for your date. I will not be ridiculed like that.”

He turns to leave, and hears Dean pick up his pace after him.

“Why- Cas, listen to me.”

“No, I absolutely refuse to listen to you. I am insulted, and hurt, and embarrassed enough to evaporate any second now.”

“Right,” Dean huffs. “Why haven’t you talked to me about this?”

Castiel just groans from somewhere deep in his gut, and for some reason, Dean’s steps come to a halt behind him.

Good. Castiel’s late for class as it is.

 

Dean doesn’t show up for the next class. First, Castiel is grateful – he doesn’t want to hear him try to apologize to make Castiel feel better about himself. That’s exactly what he’d do, too; Dean doesn’t want to hurt anyone and would probably do anything to make Castiel feel better.

There’s no way out of this mess now. Castiel could move out of town and start a life somewhere else, possibly become a monk because obviously he’s not cut out for this love thing. He’d never forget Dean, but at least he knows he’ll be happy with whoever he dates because he doesn’t have his best friend to hold him back with his – his pointless feelings.

Castiel’s line of self-sacrificing thoughts is interrupted by a swift slap delivered to the back of his head with a notebook. He lifts his gaze to meet Charlie’s angry face.

“Thank you!” he whispers furiously, “it’s not like I’m already feeling shitty about myself. Now I both feel like shit and am hurt.”

“With this?” Charlie shakes her notebook, looking at him flat-out mockingly. “Doubt that. Where’s Dean?”

“Shouldn’t you pay attention to class?”

“Shouldn’t you? If you did, you’d notice the lecturer’s out.”

Castiel looks around in the room and sees students mostly chatting with each other.

“Oh,” he says. Charlie lifts the notebook again.

“Do I need to flap you again or will you tell me where he is?”

“I don’t know. We got in an argument.”

“Over what?”

“It’s personal.”

“Are you pretending you don’t like him?”

“Wh- What?”

Charlie, the precious soul, leans down so Castiel hears her better. “He asked you out, right?”

“No.”

She squints. “You sure?”

“Yes,” Castiel says, staring at the front of the class, unable to look at Charlie right now. There’s a lump making its way up his throat – his body knows already what his brain is still denying him.

“Sure-sure?”

“Of course. He,” Castiel’s voice falters and he turns to her, “Charlie, he asked me out and I told him to fuck off because I didn’t want him to practice on me.”

Charlie raises the notebook again, and Castiel leans into the swat.

“Get going,” she sighs and gives him a push. He groans and straightens his legs before getting up, but after that he’s pretty much running.

 

Dean is sitting under the coat racks again, pretending to read but his eyes aren’t moving. Castiel crouches next to him, but his feet instantly hurt and he kneels instead. Adrenaline is pumping through his body, rendering it shaky and jumpy.

“Dean,” he starts. Dean raises his gaze over the top of his book, but isn’t looking at Castiel. “I-“

What was it that Dean asked? Castiel had been so overwhelmed he can’t remember.

“You didn’t come to class.”

Dean rolls his eyes.

“It’s important to stay up to date with education, Dean.”

“What the fuck, Cas?”

_Oh, that’s right_ , Castiel remembers feebly. Dean had asked why he never said anything.

“I didn’t want to lose you,” he answers. “I didn’t want to ruin what we already had by confessing how I felt. I wanted us to stay close, and I was too afraid to take the leap.”

“When?”

“Uh…”

“When did you first feel like that?”

“I,” Castiel starts, blushing. “It’s been a while.”

Dean shakes his head and inhales, and then holds his breath for a while before talking. “For me, it was when we hid under the table at my dad’s funeral. You laughed so hard you spat cookie crumbs all over me.”

Castiel huffs out a laugh that sounds just as painful as it is. “What?”

Dean looks at his knees now. That’s a small victory Castiel’s definitely taking. His heart is pounding in his ears, but he still hears Dean perfectly.

“And when you let me beat you in chess.”

“I didn’t let you-“

“Come on, Cas. Don’t be absurd. Of course you did.”

“Yeah, I did,” he nods.

“And I thought ‘this is it, this is the person who will do anything to make me happy, and I don’t need to pretend to be tougher, or smarter, or less emotional than I am’. I’ve been meaning to tell you so many times, you have no idea.”

“Tell me now, then,” Castiel says, because he’s selfish, and he’s greedy, and he needs these words to soothe out the raw wound seemingly unrequited love has left in his heart.

Dean looks straight at him. He feels like he’s burning up, but that’s what the sun tends to do to people.

“I’m sorry, Cas, but I don’t think I’ll be able to be friends with you,” Dean says, and his voice is gentle, almost a whisper but loud enough for it to rattle Castiel’s soul. “I am in love with you. And I wanted to keep on pretending for longer, because I thought that’s what you wanted, but when I held you in my arms yesterday… I knew it was over for me, I’d reached my limit. I needed you to know that I want to always hold you like that, like you’re everything to me, like-“ He huffs. “You’ve made me sentimental and a frigging poet, but I swear it feels like you’re the moon and I’m the ocean and you just pull me towards you and I’m completely at your mercy to do as you will with.”

Castiel shakes his head rapidly. It’s too much. It’s all too much, way too soon. He squeezes his eyes shut, tries to keep his breathing somewhat under his control, grinds his teeth to root himself.

There’s a hand on his shoulder. “You okay, Cas?”

He shakes his head again. “No. This. This is too much.”

Dean huffs. “You’re telling me. Hey, look at me.”

Castiel opens his eyes and sees green. Green, freckles, lips. Beautiful. He lifts his hand and cups Dean’s face gently.

“I’m,” he says, and coughs, because his mouth is dry, “sorry I told you to fuck off.”

“Did you mean it?”

“For you to fuck off?” He grins at Dean’s second eyeroll, and nods. “Yeah, I did. I fell for you long time ago.”

Dean leans back against the wall and reaches out his hands. Castiel takes them both and lets himself be dragged back into the safety of Dean’s arms, of his legs on both sides of him. He leans his head against Dean’s shoulder and takes a deep breath.

“I would love to go on a date with you,” he whispers. Dean smiles at him and gently brushes his lips on his forehead.

“Let’s do that, then,” Dean says with a smile.

“Can we kiss now or do we need to do the doorstep dance on our date?”

Dean hums in mock consideration, then slowly places his lips on Castiel’s. They stay like that for a while, for which Castiel is happy because for fuck’s sake his body feels like it’s going to shake until he dissolves, his heartbeat tangible all the way in his toes. He lifts his hand to the back of Dean’s neck, pulling him closer, and Dean opens his mouth to deepen the kiss. Castiel happily obliges, swirling his tongue on Dean’s lower lip, eliciting a low moan from him. Dean’s hands stay a grounding, gentle press on his sides, and he’s never thought it would feel this good – this much like home, like everything he dreamed of as a teen when he first dreamed of Dean, and more.

“Okay,” he says when Dean pulls back. “Change of plans. I want a date with you, but I want it to take place at my house, because I’m not going to stop kissing you for the next couple of weeks. That… That fine with you?”

Dean grins and nods. “I guess that’d be cool.”

They kiss again and again in the safety of their new-found coat fortress, the sun and the moon, only breaking the contact when surprised by their group of friends. Castiel stays in Dean’s arms like he’s always belonged there, and for the first time in forever, he feels he’s radiating just as brightly as Dean.

 

 

 


End file.
